the wind is in from Africa, last night I couldnt sleep
i am going to miss so much about france (&the people):
the narrow &charming cobblestone streets, the streetlights giving off powdery light, the endless cafes and bistros to be found, the strong italian coffee, the flower markets on sundays, the softest green valleys, the history behind everything, their penchant for nostalgia, their inherant arrogance, their easy affection, their spite for americans, the quiet highways leading to hidden country homes, the classic accent, the stubborn pride, rainy sunsets--old men smoking in a dim bar at night, the weakness for idealism, leisurely looong meals, wine for every occasion entree and emotion, les Lumières de Paris..
you could taste the rain before it came.
the waters rise and roll & the moment is running through our fingers and out of our eyes.
finally away from everything, and if we dont get as far as Paris, we can always pretend in my backyard.
the tide is coming in & sandcastles are sinking in the sea
falling on foreign shores.
we can feel the waves inside of our mouths, the current shifting and the mysteries of the sea drifitng away.
just some models we met.
a subtle god enters the room
modern art museum.
find the sound of the past crying i want to come back.
my future boyfriend(s.) in on the norway team.
breathing in this dry stale air wishing that we were beside the atlantic ocean, feeling the mist of the waves beating off the rocks
walking through a dream or fairytale.
dr. evil faces..
the luxury of versailles.
